Stranger to the Feeling
by P. Pon Pon
Summary: France and Germany need a better relationship since they're allies now. France discovers that Germany's never felt lust, and the Frenchman now has a new goal. Over the course of a week, he tries to get Germany to see the lustier side of life. Germany, on the other hand, is clueless for once.
1. La Premiere Chapitre

Stranger to the Feeling

**A/N: My friend and I came up with this idea during class, and further developed it during lunch. Hehe, Enjoy!**

**Thanks to Cat for her contributions! Seriously, the story would have been painfully lame without her help.**

_~Chapitre I~_

The cold, French wind bit his skin like the sight of him was unbearable, the sky was darkening at five o'clock and the street was sparkling with a thin layer of ice and snow. Winters in Paris were not familiar to Germany, but they weren't much different from those in his home. Well, the _weather_ wasn't different, but the _people—_that was another story.

If France was going to be late to an event of his own scheduling, he should have told Germany ahead of time. Still, in all seriousness, it probably wouldn't have changed anything. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he'd have come at this same time.

He didn't really want to have coffee with France. Yet, a promise was a promise, and he was a man of his word. The only reason he had promised was to better things between them. If they were going to be allied, they had to at least call each other acquaintances.

The sun was hanging from its last limb until it gave into the night, letting go of the horizon line and taking its bright, blue sky with it. Germany liked night time, though. Even if it was five...thirty.

Finally, a faint call of, _"Bonjour, Allemange!"_ echoed up the paved street, France appeared after a group of young adults disbanded, he waved largely to show he was there and to let Germany know he had not forgotten.

"_Désolé, mon ami," _The French one of the two apologized, getting closer to Germany until they were about two feet away, "So sorry, _Allemange," _an apologetic smile curved his lips, the same emotion twinkled in his eyes, "I got tied up in an affair."

Germany was going to ask what happened out of natural human reaction, but he remembered that this was France and he could say anything, and there was also an 89% chance that it was not something Germany wanted to hear.

"Anyway," France began again after noticing that Germany was admiring the building, "We came here for coffee, no?"

Germany nodded. This building sure was...strange.

As they were settling at a table and France told him what things on the menu meant, Germany made his opinion known. "This place is strangely upscale for a café, Frankreich" deep blue eyes of the addressed adverted from the menu to meet the lighter ones of the German of the two.

France chuckled. "Well, it's an old home," France briefly explained, "It used to belong to a noble, but he died and they opened it as a café."

"Why would the open the home of a dead person for people to come and have coffee?" Germany would never understand the French. That almost seemed like a...violation.

But France seemed to be perfectly fine with it as their waiter arrived.

Time evaporated, and the more time that passed, the more time Germany felt he was wasting. He's not even getting to know the other, their both silent and sipping slowly.

"I feel like we've lost out purpose," Germany made his thoughts words.

France dragging his straw through the crème, making small, effortless patterns. He looked up to meet Germany's eyes, and smiling, he asked, "Well, why don't you start?"

Germany flushed out of embarrassment. He was not the conversation-starter. "No...I think you should."

France chuckled, an Germany flushed further, looking away. His simple black coffee and unwillingness to speak showed France that maybe he should have taken the initiative in the first place. "Well, okay. Where is your favorite place at home, hm?"

Germany still didn't meet his eyes as he answered, "I...I like Rhine River," he stared into his coffee as if it could stare back, "The water reminds me that some days are just meant to be calm, and the strong structure reminds me that others are for hard work."

France didn't know Germany could be so poetic. Sure, it was not the work of the greatest, but it was enough to make France nod in appreciation. "I like the Rhine River, too. It runs through here as well..." He smiled, "maybe we've looked at the same current go by."

Germany looked at him, now, eyes full of wonder and _did he really just say that_? "So...apparently sine this was once a home, have you seen any of the other rooms?"

"_Oui,"_ France answered, grinning, "My most favorite is..._le chambre_." He purred that last word as half-lidded eyes glanced at Germany, as if he was checking him for something.

"And what is that?"

"The bedroom."

Of course. Germany looked away again, embarrassed and uncomfortable.

Still, France went on, "When you enter such an elegant room, the wine-colored atmosphere and smell of sweet roses...it embraces you," He sighed, "It inflicts such feelings of..._lust_."

Germany cocked a brow.

France's eyes widened. _"Allemange..."_ He sat up, "You look as though you have no understanding of what I mean!"

"I have never felt lust."

France gasped, it felt like just then the wind blew and took his soul with it. "_C'est faux!_"

Germany scoffed.

"You can't be telling the truth! _Monsieur, _you are twenty years old and never once have you desired someone?"

"...No..." Germany started to feel uncomfortable, "Why is that strange?"

"I just...this is...you _have_ to feel it! It's the second most wonderful feeling in the world, the raw desire, the physical craving, the heat that rises...you've never...?"

"I have been with people before," Germany said, "I have had sex. But I have never felt like I...needed to."

France sat there, mouth agape and eyes wide. "You _must, Allemange,"_ He stated finally.

"I doubt so..." Germany coughed.

They were silent for a few moments, and France thought hard.

"_Allemange has never wanted another person...that is so astonishing! Even after years of knowing me, he's never..." _France grinned, _"I know! Oui, that is the solution! Allemange will be in Paris for a week, that is plenty of time!"_ France smiled to Germany.

"I enjoyed the coffee." He 'accidentally' tipped over his empty cup. "How unfortunate..." He kicked it a little so it would end up near Germany, "Don't trouble yourself, _Allemange_, I will get it." He bent over Germany's lap to retrieve the glass, invading the latter's personal space.

Germany was very, very uncomfortable now. He shivered a little, but he didn't know quite why... "Maybe you should have let me get it, I wouldn't have minded it,"

"Oh _Non," _France sat up, brushing his hair away from his lidded eyes as he was literally a few inches away from Germany's face, "That would have been inconsiderate."

Germany leaned backward a bit, and turned his head away as France went back to his chair.

This was going to be so much fun!


	2. Kapitel Zwei

Stranger to the Feeling

_~Chapitre II~_

Germany couldn't think straight. It wasn't the atmosphere—French hotels weren't too different from others he has stayed—but something wasn't right. He felt awkward, which was not strange for him, but he was _alone_. No one was there to make him uncomfortable.

Unless...

He remembered earlier...when France bent over his lap. Sure, it would make anyone uncomfortable, but...he almost felt...

A tingle...

Then again, he'd never had anyone's face so close to his crotch before, so maybe that was the natural reaction.

But...it almost felt good...

No. He could never take pleasure in that! That was ridiculous. France, no matter how hard he tried or wanted to, could never spark such a feeling in Germany. No one could...

But for some reason, he felt that...maybe France should have touched it.

_It?_

No, no he shouldn't have and he didn't and thank Christ. If he had...that would have been...

"Delightful..." He said out loud. His reflection in the window was _shocked_. How could he have said that? He certainly didn't think it, his mind was a haze and no clear thoughts stood out from the gray area. He blushed, and shook his head. "That is impossible, _verboten_..." He scolded himself. Maybe there was something in the coffee. Maybe he was just too tired.

Maybe...

~...~

France smiled at the sight in the vanity that presented him. "_Ah, trés beau,"_ He complimented himself.

Looking his best was hard, because he always looked so damn good!

But he was preparing himself for sleep, anyway. And yet, his ideas differed from most other people. Going to sleep beautiful, to him, meant waking up beautiful. He was satisfied with his image, and soon he was relaxing in his four-poster bed, waiting for sleep to caress him and shield him from the night, then release him in the morning.

While he was waiting, Germany flooded into his mind. It was just so unbelievable that a man so young, so handsome, had never been pleasured correctly. It almost broke France's heart. He would never have done a bad job with the German...never. He would have touched him in all the right places and made sure he was nice and _hot_ before any actual sex took place.

To be honest, he's thought of having Germany before. Many times before. Ever since...

He sat up in bed, slowly, as if there was something in the far corner in the room that caught his eye.

Ever since when?

A younger Francis Bonnefoy picked the petals of a rose in the courtyard. Why he was in Berlin was a haze, but he decided that the place could use the color and beauty of a rose. He was freshly twenty-two years old, his parents had finally left him alone and he was free to make adult choices. His father was not there to tell him about his serious future, his mother not there to warn him of the dangerous world. Rarely had he seen another _human being_ with which he had no relation.

But there, on the other side of the courtyard, was one of the dangers his mother had been so careful to warn him to be cautious of.

A beautiful man.

Well, she had said _woman_, but Francis assumed this could not have been much different. The man—or boy, he looked young—was talking with an albino-looking person of the same gender, not much emotion seemed to come from their words.

The person of interest was blonde, with light blue eyes that told a story of strict morals and stern rearing. He looked to be a teenager, but France didn't care. His strong arms and sculpted shoulders gave the impression that he could handle molestation, if it came to that. He was so handsome...so well-put-together...

So desirable.

A heat rose in France's chest, desire burned at his core and he knew he needed to touch that boy. He needed to have him.

Even if it was a fantasy.

France gasped. "Could it have been..." He asked himself, "_Allemange_ was the first person I ever desired..."

He could feel arousal building up in his core, and it gathered in _other places_ as well...

He moaned a little, laying back down, he thought of Germany.

"_Perhaps..." _He pondered, _"There is more to this than I thought..."_

~...~

France waited for the schoolchildren to cross the street before he met Germany at the corner. "_Bonjour, mon ami._" He greeted, "_Ça va, how are you?"_

"Fine." Germany answered simply, not really looking at the one who had greeted him.

France had a hard time buying that. "Everything is okay?"

Germany wasn't going to tell France that everything was definitely _not_ okay. France would find the utmost joy to hear that he had Germany flustered last night, doubting his own self-reliability. "Everything is as I said, fine."

France slowly nodded. "Of course. Come, I want you to see something."


	3. Chapitre Trois

Stranger to the Feeling

_~Chapitre III~_

Germany followed his French friend down the busy streets of Paris. The former of the two was a little flustered, because in order to prevent losing each other in the crowd, their fingers were laced together tightly.

As France dashed down the paved way, he knew these streets as well as the back of his hand, he basically dragged along his companion. He said a quick and mental apology to Germany. _"Just a bit further..." _

It wasn't long after that when France had said a joyful, "_Nous arrivons, we're here!_"

Germany did a careful study on the building that stood over them. It was carefully detailed in terms of design, the cold stone color of the structure exploded into pops of color that must have been recent additions. "What is this place...?"

"It is our famed theater," France stated, gesturing for Germany to enter before him, "I wish for you to see a romantic ballet with me."

As Germany looked at his new friend, a heat rose in his face. The blush contrasted with his cool blue eyes, which were focused clear on the beautiful Frenchman in front of him. "A...romantic ballet?"

"Oui..." France returned the interested look, "You do not have to if you do not want to..."

"I...want to." Germany had never watched a ballet before, but something about the gorgeous sapphires that stared back at him ordered him not to refuse.

France grinned exquisitely, "Tres bien, merci!"

Ballet was very...French. Even though France explained it had actually started in Italy, a fact which made Germany smile, he concluded this within the first ten minutes of the production. The gentle movements that exuded grace, it almost seemed like artwork. Carefully put together, carefully thought about and inspired by something beautiful. He watched with interest, especially when the most romantic scene had started.

The woman fell into the man's arms. It was so beautiful because their love was forbidden, they were of nations that were enemies. But they were desperately in love, they meant the world to each other...Germany almost felt like, by the selection of this show, France was trying to tell him something...but what?

The German was not allowed much time to ponder this, a hand rubbed up Germany's strong thigh, it rested dangerously close to his crotch. It made him a little uncomfortable, but it strangely felt good.

France bit his lip as his hand caressed the handsome man's body. Germany wasn't even looking at him, he had his head turned to the side where France was not visible. "_Allemange_..." France whispered, his lips nearing Germany's ear...

Germany covered his mouth, blush washed out the pale color of his face.

"Allemange?" France shook his shoulder, "Allemange, are you asleep?"

Germany looked over to France, "Wha...Oh, no..." What the hell just happened? "I just...thought of something..."

France had to bite his lip to hide his grin. Germany was blushing, he was flushed and breathing hard. France knew the thirty-six stages of passion (yes, he knew there were less than that, but he added some more) very well, and Germany was already at #15.

_Fantasizing. _

"Maybe we should go, it's about lunchtime." He stood and offered Germany a hand.

Germany nodded and ignored the hand. He didn't really want to touch France after what he just envisioned, he thought he'd somehow manage to get out of control.

~...~

It was hours later when they sat atop a building. France had ordered that Germany come up there with him, because Paris was simply _tr__é__s beau _at night.

And he certainly was not wrong.

The lights twinkled like stars in a sky below them, all different colors shone out like colored diamonds laid carefully on a dark cushion. Germany sat there, in awe, and he thought that he'd never seen anything like this from a height so daring with a man he thought he hated.

But ever since earlier, in the theater, he felt a pang in his chest that was other than his heart. Or maybe it was his heart, going at a speed he'd never felt it go. The point was that he needed to ask France this _now_, or he would do something absolutely unmindful.

"Francis..."

France looked over his shoulder at the man, shocked and slightly attracted at the use of his real name. "Oui...?" The word melted off his soft-looking, well moisturized, barely parted lips.

"I..." Germany stared at the beautiful man in front of him. "I was...thinking about what you said yesterday...about..."

"Lust?"

"Yes...explain it to me...what is it like?"

France stared up at him a long time. Slowly, he placed his hands at the back of Germany's neck and forced him down into a tender kiss.

Germany had really hoped he would do that.

France's body pushed against Germany's, the fact that they were on a roof and anyone who would bother to glance out the window would see them was terrifying. The fact that no one was daring enough to do so? That was luck.

Germany had a hard time being afraid, though. France's body heat was getting to him, the soft, rose-like smell of his hair and just the way it felt. The combination drowned his mind in a welcoming wave of passion, he rested his hands at the small of France's back.

They were one in that moment—the way they felt didn't have to be said. The unison of their lips was almost like a way of communication. It was almost like they were silently promising that this was real, their feelings were real. This was happening.

No...it wasn't _almost_ that way. It _was_ that way.

When France separated them, he bit his lip nervously. This was something Germany had never seen France do, the man was never nervous about anything.

"Germany..." France stared up at him, nothing could have broken their eye contact at that moment, deep blue eyes reflected off lighter ones. "I...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you without making sure you were alright with it..."

"Did you feel that?"

France stared up at him again, and Germany took his hand, gently, and folded it into his own.

"It felt like that was supposed to happen." Germany finished, "I have no complaints...besides that you stopped."

France's eyes widened and he _blushed_. "Monsieur Allemange?"

"Yes?"

France placed a hot kiss on Germany's collarbone. "_Bonsoir,_ Have a good night." He stood and went for the door to take him to the stairs.

Germany sat there a while longer. "Damn."


End file.
